My Lovely Sin
by ThatOneGoodWriter
Summary: He is a nobleman, cruel and stern. Wealthy and strong. When he purchases a certain servant, he does not expect to fall in love with an individual he believes is a mistake to the world. Clace.
1. Chapter 1

He trudged deliberately slow, his steps hesitant and afraid. The girl behind him was silent. She ought to be, he thought bitterly. She was the one who caused this in the first place. He tried to form any other thoughts, but the one idea that circled his head was of his utter demise. He squared his shoulders, awkwardly pushing out his lanky chest. The sound of wooden wheels clattering against the ground made him turn in anger. He brought his foot harshly and kicked her. She screamed, tumbling to the dirt. He smirked, some of his annoyance sent elsewhere. He continued to walk, listening to her small grunts of pain as she, he assumed, was trying to get back on her plank.

When they made it to the oversized mansion, he snapped his fingers at her. She blinked, looking down immediately. "Do not enter unless I order you to do so." He opened the door and entered the house, almost bumping into servants scurrying with dishes and plates in their hands. He cursed, wiping the inevitable sweat from his forehead. The plan he had forged in his head was briskly disintegrating. He passed the long hall and stopped at the largest room. He swallowed and brought his hand to the door. Knocked twice.

"Come in." A deep voice answered.

He sauntered inside. It was not a grand room for a wealthy nobleman but for some strange reason, the man favored it. "What have you brought for me, Alexander?"

Alexander nodded to himself. He exhaled. The man in front of him was beautiful and vicious. Tall and muscular with a body that never failed to frighten him. His tawny hair was swept across his forehead, strands lying loosely near his eyes. He wore a long, black coat while his hands were elegantly dressed with gold. The bracelets glittered brilliantly.

"Answer me this instant." His golden orbs narrowed, transforming from suspicion to displeasure.

"Master, I-I have purchased a servant." His bottom lip trembled.

Sir. Jonathon rose to his feet. He had been sitting on the corner of his bed. Alexander stared at him wearily. "And where exactly have you placed her, fool?" The insult made him suck in a breath.

"Enter now." He realized his tone was shrill but his Master seemed to not acknowledge his terrified behavior, his gaze sweeping to the door. Alexander heard the familiar noises of wood, his face pale. She scooted forward, arms pushing at the ground to gain more speed. She halted her movements and kept her head lowered.

His Master was observing her. He could not read his expression. Nobody could. "I gave you specific orders."

Alexander blanched. "She was the only one left. The rest were not fit to work for such a high lord like you." He hoped the pleasant words would soften the man's spirit but they seemed to worsen it.

"And you believe she is capable of working? Look at her, you blind scum. She is a fleabag, good for nothing! Get out of my face, you sorry excuse for a footman!" The smaller of the two gentlemen scrambled hurriedly outside of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Jonathon released his fisted hands. "Face me." She did, her face bruised. "Why in the world would god create you? You are worth nothing." She didn't reply. He noticed her fingers drumming against her support surface.

"When I am speaking, you shall talk back. Understand, wench?" She didn't nod. Didn't even give him a signal that she had even heard him in the first place. He growled and gripped the cloth of her rags upwards. She gasped and began to scream, arms flailing wildly.

He pursed his lips. He pushed her to the wall and heard the satisfactory sounds of something breaking. She was weeping, no longer thrashing about like she had done before. Her small hands held the sides of his shoulders in desperation. He did not perceive her actions and with a simple fling, let her fall to the ground. She collapsed awkwardly, one leg over the other. She was still crying, of course, but this time it was contained. Her fingers trembled and she slid her arms to the ground to propel her forward. Her plank was on the other side of the room.

Jonathon gave her one last scornful glance. He left.

 **[]**

It was night. He tugged the gauntlet of wine with him, sipping gingerly from its content. A few merchants and ditchers that passed him never met his gaze. They quickly scurried along the cement. Jonathon lifted his key from his pocket and unlocked the door to his household. The interior was still. He called to the one of the maids. "Bring me more wine. I shall be in my chambers." He threw the silver cup and made his way to his room.

When he swung his door open lazily, he found her in the same position. His eyebrows knit. He closed the door to send the workers a clear message not to come in. The girl was unmoving. She didn't show any sign of seeing him. He bent to his knees and forced her chin up. Her eyes were large and green. Mouth spotted with dried blood. "You will do as I say from this instant. Anything less of what pleases me and I will do more than what occurred today." She winced when he let her go.

Jonathon tugged off his jacket and immediately rested on his mattress. It was adorned with tiny pieces of bronze and gold jewelry. He listened to her breaths, soft and short. He ignored her mute pleas of getting her her plank. He ignored the maid's holler from outside, asking if he wanted the wine to be put on the ground. He slept.

 **[]**

He awoke to the sound of horrified screaming. He pushed himself off his bed and stepped into the garderobe, meeting the source of the loud racket. The girl was in a tub, steaming water filled to the top of where her body was laid. Water had spilled on the ground and Alexander was pushing her back lower, gripping her hair tightly. She wiped at her eyes like a child but could not move. "What are you doing?"

The footman turned to him, shocked. "Master." He smiled. "I am trying to wash her. She stinks like a peasant. Yet, she keeps fighting me. Won't even allow the maids to touch her."

Jonathon swiped his hair from his face. "I will handle this. Head to the market, bring all that we need. The coins are in the horse's pouch." Alexander looked relieved to leave. He sent a praising expression to his lord and disappeared.

She played with the water, her chipped skin pruning up. He grabbed a piece of cloth and what the servants had collected. A small dress that appeared to be her size. He left it on the ground beside her.

"Call for Maia to raise you out of the tub when you are finished. Do not fight her either." He rubbed his eyelids, his back aching. Not abiding by his body's rules, he changed into his attire for work.

 **[]**

 _Review._


	2. Chapter 2

_And that's when I know it's over. As soon as you start thinking about the beginning,_

 _it's the end._

Junot Diaz

 **a/n: So, a few reviews are confused at the concept of the 'plank' in the story. Back in the Middle Ages, the disabled were looked down upon. They had no services provided to them and society believed that God had punished them because of their sins. As you can tell, Clary is disabled. A plank, as I call it, is a strip of flat wood wide enough for someone to sit on, with wooden wheels to move. Clary cannot move her lower half and must sit on this plank or else be immobile. I hope that clears things up. Any further questions will be answered in further chapters.**

Maia sighed. "You are so beautiful. What has caused you to become like this?" She brought the brush down into the girl's orange-red hair. The strands came in elegant waves despite her lack of upbringing. The girl was sitting on the edge of a bed after Maia and a few others had managed to lift her there without any resistance. She appeared much cleaner now, her freckles bright and her skin pale. The scratch Jonathon had inflicted on her bottom lip was still there. It would probably turn into a scar.

Maia pitied her. She knew Jonathon would not keep her. Any servant that he did not desire was thrown into a village at random, left to fend for themselves. She wondered what her name was and how old she could be. She looked young, perhaps still in her early stages of youth.

A short woman scurried into the room, her bun bouncing up and down. A look of urgency was on her face. "Master Jonathon has arrived."

Maia glanced at the girl below her momentarily. "Alright. Prepare his meal and make certain his wine is set." The maid nodded and ran towards the kitchens. Maia needed to bring out Jonathon's fresh clothing. Hesitantly, she pondered whether it would be a good decision to leave the girl there. Shaking her head, the older woman patted her on the head softly and exited the room.

 **x**

Jonathon set his hat down and a maid grabbed it carefully, placing it on one of the hangers near the door. A table was set out for him where all kinds of meat and vegetables were displayed. He managed to catch the eye of Maia as she set a few spoons on the cloth. "I am not hungry. I will go to sleep. I do not want any disturbances."

She looked skeptical but nodded, not wanting to question his decisions. She called out to her companions and reminded them of his demand.

Jonathon sauntered into his room to find the girl at the corner of his bed. She was playing with something around her neck. At the sound of his footsteps, she peered up and their eyes met. Her lips parted and he noticed that she was cleaned up now, her hair long and without tangles, her face spotless, and her attire changed into a thin gown that reached her knees. As he got closer, she tried to scramble backwards but her arms could only push her so far.

"Stop." He said. He raised a hand to her and crept a few inches forward. "I will not hesitate to strike you." She stopped moving, her green eyes wide and afraid.

"What is your name?" Jonathon asked, as he sat on the other side of the mattress. She watched him but didn't reply, the only movement coming from the rise and fall of her chest.

"Do you have a name?" This time his voice was harsher, irritation lurking on his face. Again, she did not answer. He reached his hand toward her and forced her chin upwards. Her mouth was quivering. "Answer me." His words were above a whisper. She could feel his warm breath stirring her curls.

And in a moment she was thrust to the ground, her back striking the floor. She struggled to breathe and tried to rise up, but one of her legs was thrown atop the other and her plank was nowhere to be found. She was glancing everywhere but at him and dark spots filled her vision.

Jonathon scowled, hating the way she avoided him. He stood over her small body. "You will speak this instant." Her shoulders were shaking and she had her head bowed, long hair masking her face. She didn't seem to realize he was even there. He crouched down in front of her and pulled the hem of her dress upwards so that she could look at him. When she did, her nose was tinged red and her lip was bleeding. With a jerk, he let go of her.

He set his coat down lazily on the ground and collapsed onto the bed, his desire for sleep now gone. He didn't bother with the sheets and folded his arms on his chest, staring at the ceiling. She was weeping and he could tell that she was trying to be quiet but was failing miserably. He listened to some shuffling and guessed that she was trying to move. Jonathon released a breath and winced when he turned to his side, his back stinging.

When he rose an hour later, his head throbbing, he found Maia sitting near the girl on the ground. She was speaking to her softly and the girl was shaking her head, still crying. Maia looked up in alarm at her master and her expression turned guilty. His eyes seemed to ask her a question. She swallowed. "She lost a belonging of hers."

His eyebrows knit. "What?"

Maia flinched at his tone. "She had a necklace. I believe it has fallen somewhere here."

A few moments of terrible silence filled the room. "She spoke to you?" He was standing closer to them now, his orbs studying the girl intently. Maia opened her mouth and closed it.

"Yes. Is there something I missed, my lord?"

"What is her name?"

Maia was confused. Where was this going? "Her name is Clarissa."

Jonathon nodded, like it all made sense somewhere. "Leave the room."

Maia's eyes widened. "But-"

"I said leave. Do not question my authority."

With one last sympathetic look to Clarissa, the servant hurried outside.

 **x**

His voice was quiet and thoughtful. "You answer to a lowly maid but refuse to obey me." It wasn't a question. It was an observation. He lowered himself to the ground and watched her wince when their shoulders touched.

She was so small compared to him. He examined her legs, where her dress had risen. There were numerous bruises and scratches there as well as what looked to be ink. He bent lower and noticed her fidget. It appeared to be a tattoo of some sort. A single star. He looked from the mark to her face, wanting to know what it was but she wasn't paying attention to him.

Jonathon could hit her. He knew he had to. The only thing holding him back was her stubbornness. No matter how many times he hurt her, she would not listen to him.

He leaned back against the bed and felt something sharp stab his thigh. With a grunt, he picked at the object until it came into view. A necklace. At the noise of a chain, the girl gazed at him. Their faces were inches apart. He studied the piece of jewelry. It was nothing special. A locket hung loosely and he popped it open easily, revealing the face of a young man. It was a tiny illustration, but it looked real enough. He had dark hair and brown eyes, his smile playful and knowing.

When Jonathon looked at Clarissa again, her found her staring at him. "Who is that?" He asked her.

To his shock, she answered him. "A companion." Her accent was sharp and her voice was tender.

"Where are you from?" She shifted, rubbing her hands together as if looking for something to do.

"Ireland."

He drew in a breath and dropped the necklace onto her lap. He watched her place it around her neck securely, eyes shutting with relief.

Jonathon stood up, but before he would leave, he questioned one last time before night arrived, "Why speak now?"

She had her hands clasped around the locket. His presence was nothing to her. "Because you would have never stopped. " She sniffled. "You would have beaten me to death."

He went to grab a drink.

 **x**


	3. Chapter 3

_You're going to be fine. You're going to be more than fine, you're going to be a fucking supernova. Hang in there._

Juno Dawson

 **x**

Maia stared down at her with skeptical eyes. "Perhaps we can arrange a different method of transportation for you, Clarissa."

They were in the kitchen, preparing what was to be supper for the lord. The head maid was stirring chicken in a pot, occasionally glancing at the young girl below her. The other servants were cleaning up the household, wiping away dust and setting the dining table.

When Clarissa didn't respond, Maia sighed and tugged out the spoon from the pot. She set it down on a cloth. "Keeping your voice inside will not help you, dear." She bent down to the ground, careful not to dirty her uniform. The wooden plank appeared ready to break. The wheels were wearing away and the wood of the surface was peeled.

"I can ask the lord for something better." Just as the suggestion was made, Clarissa's head whipped upwards, alarm written on her youthful face. She shook her head repeatedly. There was a fear in her eyes that caused Maia to suddenly feel motherly.

"Alright." She pursed her lips and rose up again. Clarissa continued to chop onions from where she was situated on the ground.

 **x**

A few hours later, Jonathon entered through the front doors. He was followed by an apologetic looking Alexander, his hands swinging wildly as he spoke. "My lord, I can dispose of her as you like. There are villages everywhere that will use her!"

Jonathon was patient. He peeled off his hat from his head and tossed it to a servant who hurriedly hung it on a rack nearby. Alexander was still rambling, his mouth moving so rapidly he didn't seem to be human. "I will do all the work necessary. First thing tomorrow morning, she will be taken as a slave or wench."

Maia hesitated. She never spoke out of turn. She was the lord's closest maid. She tightly grasped her hands together. Beside her, Clarissa was quiet. If nobody would speak for her, she definitely would. "Sir Jonathon." She started and bowed her head in respect.

Jonathon raised an eyebrow and even Alexander stopped blubbering like a fish. "What is it?"

She swallowed. "You have given me more than enough all these years. I am grateful for all that you have done. I know it is not my place-"

Jonathon waved a hand swiftly in the air. She caught the irritation in his face. "Maia, spit it out."

"I want to keep Clarissa."

Long moments of silence trailed after her declaration. It was Alexander who made the first sound. He laughed hysterically, his pale skin flushing quickly. When he realized he was alone in his humor, he stopped, clearing his throat dramatically. "Ah, I will take my leave, my lord."

 **x**

Now, it was just the three of them.

Maia straightened her shoulders. She watched as Jonathon took a seat on a chair at the dining table. The servants had already placed hot bowls of soup and plates with juicy steak on the covers. He reached out and grasped a goblet that was filled to the brim with wine. "Sit." He ordered, his voice firm.

Her eyes widened. "It is not my place, my lord."

He started again. " _Maia_."

She had to listen; she had no other choice. Maia patted Clarissa's head and sat as far away from Jonathon as possible.

He took a sip from his goblet. "What do you know about the girl that I do not?"

"Nothing out of the sorts." The more she spoke of Clarissa, the stronger she became. She had never had a daughter before. This was the closest she would ever be to that aspiration.

"Why keep her when she is crippled?" He was thoughtful, searching for a genuine answer. Maia flinched at the last word he uttered.

"With all due respect, crippled does not mean worthless."

Jonathon stood up and unbuttoned his jacket. She immediately sauntered to him, grabbing the garment from his hands. "Where is she?" He asked, his tawny orbs searching around the room.

Maia pointed to the kitchen.

He nodded. "Leave."

 **x**

He found her underneath a counter, playing with the strands of her hair. Upon seeing his feet, she peered up uncertainly, her bottom lip bitten tightly by her top one. He lowered himself on the ground and observed her hands tremble slightly. "If you do not answer my questions, I will release Maia from my household." He brought a finger underneath her chin. His threat was calm. "Do you understand?" She nodded.

"How old are you?"

She licked her mouth. "Nineteen."

She was fingering a dress. It appeared new. It reached her knees and presented a pattern of red and pink roses.

"How did you end up here?"

She released a breath. He waited. For a second, he believed she was defying him. She wasn't moving, her hair hung idly from her shoulders. He raised a hand and she instantly clasped it, placing it down on his lap. Her palm was warm, he realized. It dawned on him that she was thinking. She wasn't being stubborn.

"I was going to speak." She whispered, meeting his gaze almost nervously. "I needed time."

He didn't respond.

She picked at the nail of her thumb. "My parents died before I was born. My grandmother took care of me. When I was eight, she also passed on from old age." Jonathon had forgotten he had stopped breathing. He ran his fingers through his hair and swept aside curls that were dribbling onto his forehead. "I did not have anyone then. I lived on the streets of our village."

He cut her off with a light scowl. "How could you have lived? With the way you were?"

She shook her head. "I was normal then. I could walk and run. I could jump. I could dance. Everything was easier when I was a child."

Something tightened in his chest. He hadn't ever considered the thought that she wasn't born immobile.

"You called me a sin." She said, her forehead wrinkingly slightly. "I am _not_ a sin. You can throw me out to the wolves, I do not care. I am no mistake."

Jonathon struggled to rise to his feet. He reached a hand out to her. "Come on." His tone was impatient.

Her orbs were wide and vivid. "I-I can't." It was a low whisper.

"Do not make me angry." Except he did not sound at all frustrated.

She offered her hand, small compared to his. He took it and lifted her body up. She made a sound of surprise, but she didn't struggle. She was certain she would fall. Her legs wouldn't carry her. He brought an arm underneath her knees and she was in the air, her body being hoisted like a doll.

"What are you doing?" She asked, abruptly realizing that he was walking out of the kitchen. She had an arm around his head and one along his chest. What could he possibly be thinking of?

They were at the front door. He swung it open. It was nearing night. She didn't see anyone walking down the cement paths. It was cold. She was only wearing a thin dress. Goosebumps formed on her legs. Somehow, she had a bad feeling about this. She met his eyes. They were a light blue hue now. "Not all of us carry physical ailments." She couldn't see through the blur of her tears. "Least of all you. You carry your own burden, Jonathon."

It was the first and last time she'd ever call him by his name.

Something flashed in his expression.

Then he flung her outside, like a sack of rotten potatoes that didn't please him.

The door to his manor closed with a slam.

She was alone again.

 **x**

 **[a/n]:** _Hi guys. I'm hoping you'll review your opinions, please. I'm going through some tough times. I'm at that teenage stage where I'm questioning everything. I don't even know who I am anymore._

 _I love you guys. Review if you're able to._


	4. Chapter 4

_Where is your home?_

 _Which country?_

 _Which camp without a name?_

 _My country is abandoned._

 _My soul has left me._

 _I have no home._

Adonis

 **x**

She didn't know how long she remained there. Perhaps an hour. Or more. She didn't know. All she knew was that her legs were probably bruised and her arms stung from the impact on the cement. She had tried to scoot forward. She had tried to lug her body so that she wasn't in the middle of the street.

But she didn't try calling out to anyone.

No one could possibly help her. She was certain.

 **x**

At one point in the middle of the night, she slept. She was cold and she was shivering, but above all else, she was tired.

 **x**

She felt a gentle jab against her arm and stirred slightly, expecting to see a street sweeper who wanted her to move away. She blinked and made a sound of discomfort when a strong breeze ruffled her dress. It was too thin to wear in such weather.

It was Maia.

She opened her mouth. Was she dreaming? Hiding her fingers from view, she pinched her side and still found the older woman in front of her.

Maia was crying silently. She was kneeling on the ground, a few bags beside her. She lifted a hand and placed it on Clarissa's cheek. It was warm. Clarissa's eyelids hovered shut in contentment. "Oh, dear." Maia released a soft sob. "What else must you have to do to prove yourself to others?"

 **x**

Maia had somehow retrieved Clarissa's plank from the manor. She had also bought bags of clothing and food. It was nearing morning and the sun was creeping its way upwards in the light sky. They were going to Maia's house, a place that the maid described was small and comfortable. Perfect for the two of them.

Clarissa wheeled herself forward. She didn't want Maia having to slow down for her. Panting, she asked, "Why did you leave?"

Maia smiled tenderly. In the morning light, she looked beautiful, her tan skin glittering. "I chose to leave."

Clarissa stopped. She let her arms rest. "Why?"

The former maid pursed her lips. "Because of you."

 **x**

It was a tiny cottage surrounded by thick trees and shrubs. Maia pulled out a key from underneath her garments and unlocked the wooden door. She beckoned Clarissa inside first.

There were two rooms in the cottage. A bathroom and a living space. The living space also housed a small stove and a thin mattress. Maia lit the stove and rubbed her hands together. "It's quite the winter we are having."

Clarissa smiled. "Thank you."

 **x**

Jonathon slipped on his shoes and trudged into the kitchen area. He found one of his servants scurrying to the oven. When she noticed him, she stumbled and stood upright. "Master." She was breathless, her face flushed and her eyes worried.

"There is nothing prepared."

She bowed her head. "We have been working, Master Jonathon. Maia's absence has caused many issues."

"Maia's what?" His voice was quiet, which made it all the more threatening. His hand tightened into a fist.

The servant blanched. "Maia left. She-She left early in the morning."

Jonathon turned around. He fought the urge to throttle the foolish girl in front of him, but simply made his way briskly outside.

 **x**

Clarissa bit into the fish and chewed the charred flesh before swallowing. She was eating quickly, her bites large and rushed. Maia watched her, her eyes wrinkled. They were sitting in the living space, surrounding the burning stove. A blanket was atop both of their bodies.

"Are you hungry?" Clarissa asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Maia shook her head.

Clarissa dropped the remaining bones into a dish and used her arms to back herself against the wall. "I thought I would stay on the streets."

Maia hummed back in reply.

Clarissa dug her face into Maia's shoulder, like a child. "What happened to him?"

Maia raised an eyebrow. "To whom?"

"Jonathon."

The older woman stiffened. "What do you mean?"

Clarissa turned to face her with a grunt. "He is cold." She pointed to her chest. "He is empty."

Maia frowned. "Sometimes, nothing has to happen for a person to be a certain way."

 **x**

Alexander froze when he reached the Master's office. He hesitated near the door, then knocked when he gained enough courage. Inside, Jonathon was sitting behind his desk, his feet kicked out on its wooden surface. He was staring out of a window to his right, where the view of the bustling neighborhood could be seen.

"Master." Alexander began.

He didn't look away from the window. Instead he replied, without peering in his direction, "Bring Maia. Scour every household if you must."

He knew he should've kept his trap shut, but his curiosity got the best of him. "Master, I believe it will be difficult to fetch her." He licked his lips nervously. "She is most certainly with the wench."

The burst of anger he expected didn't occur. Instead, the powerful man simply shook his head. "I want her here. No matter what it takes."

 **x**

Clarissa slept that night, for the first time in years, secure. She slept near another human, one that didn't care for her condition. She slept with love.

 **x**

 **[a/n]: review.**


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